Reditus

by Mary M Wallace

  Lydia looked up from her bowl and met Bree’s gaze. “Oh,” she said. “I assumed you’d heard. Declan and Corbin were in Medical when they brought him in last night.” She waved a hand. “I just figured…” she trailed off when she saw Bree shaking her head. “He’s okay now. He was hurt pretty badly during their mission last night, but he’s going to be fine. The doctors were worried but he pulled through. He’ll need a while to recover, though.” She turned her attention back to her food.

  “Was anyone else hurt?” Bree asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

  Lydia shook her head as she swallowed her food. “Just Pax,” she said. “I don’t know all the details of the mission but everyone else made it back without injury. And Pax is going to be fine.”

  Bree nodded. She was glad to hear that no one had been killed but Pax’s injury served to remind her how dangerous this new life was. She looked from Lydia to James and back again. She tried to imagine raising a child and knowing with certainty that he or she would grow up to fight, to be hunted, possibly killed. She found she couldn’t picture it. She understood why her parents had made the choice to leave all those years ago. It was true that she’d still ended up in this life but she was grateful for the chance to have a normal childhood. Shaking her head to clear it, she turned her attention back to Lydia.

  “Is he able to have visitors?” she asked.

  Lydia wiped her mouth with a napkin and nodded. “I think so. I know my dad went to see him this morning but he was still pretty out of it.”

  Bree made a mental note to go visit him later that day.

  Lydia handed James a napkin to wipe his face before turning back to Bree. “Have you had a chance to read any of the books I lent you?”

  Bree brightened a bit at the sudden change of subject. “Some,” she said. “I don’t get a ton of free time but I’ve finished one. I need to bring it back to you.”

  Lydia dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “Whenever you get around to it,” she said. “I haven’t touched those books in years.”

  Bree smiled, wondering again whether she should mention the journal to Lydia. She didn’t know why she was so hesitant to discuss it, but something held her back. Instead, she said, “What do you know about the start of the war?” When Lydia gave her a look of confusion, she clarified. “What made Ephraim declare war on everyone? I know his wife was killed but that was nearly a hundred years ago. The people responsible for that are long dead. Why keep this up? What’s the point?”

  Lydia glanced over to James who had finished eating his breakfast and was now playing with two small cars, rolling them along the table and crashing them into one another. Bree knew that his apparent lack of attention didn’t necessarily mean he wasn’t aware of their conversation. Lydia didn’t look worried though as she turned back to face Bree.

  “I don’t think anyone really knows his true motives,” she said. “Every account I’ve found makes him out to be a devoted husband. He loved his wife and they were happy. I don’t know the circumstances around her death. That was a bad time for Praetorians. They were all just trying to stay alive. They’d scattered and there wasn’t a real council in place for a lot of years. I don’t think they focused on keeping detailed records.” She sighed. “I wish they had. It could be helpful to know more about what made him the person he is now. What makes a person turn into a monster?”

  A shadow seemed to come into Lydia’s eyes and Bree wondered what she was thinking. She’d never seen her anything other than smiling and cheerful. Surely the subject of Ephraim wasn’t responsible for her change in mood. Just as Bree was about to ask if she was okay, Lydia’s face brightened. She smiled and her blue eyes seemed to regain their normal sparkle leaving no trace of the shadow Bree had seen moments before. The change happened so quickly that Bree almost wondered if she’d really seen it at all.

  “Do you have any big plans for your free day?” Lydia asked her.

  The change of subject caught Bree by surprise and she shook her head. “I hadn’t given it much thought beyond sleeping in,” she said with a laugh.

  Lydia said, “James has class this morning. Do you want to keep me company while he’s gone? I don’t have anything exciting planned.”

  Bree thought about Charlotte’s journal lying on her couch, seeming to call to her. She knew if she went back to her quarters that she’d end up reading the book and becoming lost in Charlotte and Ephraim’s life again. She didn’t want that for her day off. She returned Lydia’s smile.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’d love to.”

  The three of them left the dining hall and walked toward the classrooms which were located near the library. James held his mother’s hand and swung it playfully back and forth as he walked. Bree found it impossible not to smile at his simple joy. Even living underground and raised with the awareness of the war looming over him, he was still a typical child in so many ways. She thought back to the night they arrived and remembered his eerie insights into her mind even as he’d so clearly longed to play with his toy truck.

  He’d given her a long look that had felt wise, even coming from a small child. He’d said, “You’re okay.” Lydia had given him a smile of approval and ushered Bree from the room, believing that James had given her the okay. Maybe that was the case, but Bree had felt more as though he were reassuring her rather than his mother. She’d felt like he was telling her that she would be okay. It was an odd feeling, being comforted by a seven–year–old, but it had been comforting, nonetheless. She felt a strange connection to this little boy who could see into her mind.

  When he reached out a hand to take hers, Bree didn’t hesitate. Lydia gave her an apologetic smile but Bree wasn’t bothered. James would occasionally jump into the air and Bree and Lydia would swing him forward as they walked, smiling at his infectious laughter. When they reached the classroom, James waved goodbye and ran inside. Lydia spoke briefly to the teacher before rejoining Bree in the corridor.

  “Sorry about that,” Lydia said gesturing to the classroom behind her. “He can be a bit of a handful sometimes.”

  Bree shook her head and waved off the apology. “Don’t be,” she said. “He’s a great kid.”

  Lydia seemed relieved that Bree hadn’t been bothered by James’s rambunctious behavior. She smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “I think he likes you. He’s not always so outgoing with new people.”

  Bree’s smile widened. “I like him too,” she said and meant it.

  The two of them walked back to the cafeteria for another cup of coffee. The breakfast crowd had thinned out and there were lots of empty tables available. They sat at a small table in the corner and sipped their coffee. Lydia seemed to study Bree for a moment. She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it and looked back to the table. Bree wondered what she’d been about to say but she didn’t want to force the woman to speak. She looked distinctively uncomfortable. After another minute spent in strained silence, Lydia finally spoke.

  “Bree,” she said. “Before you came here…When your dad was hurt, I mean. Sawyer said you had some help.” Bree wasn’t sure what Lydia was asking or why it seemed so difficult for her to find the words.

  “You mean Rafe?” she asked. “He healed my dad.”

  Lydia froze, her eyes on Bree’s face. She let out a breath and Bree thought she looked upset when she nodded. “Yes,” she said quietly. “My husband. James’ father.”

  Bree’s brows rose slightly. She hadn’t even considered who James’ father might be or whether Lydia was married. She thought back to that day. Much of it was a blur but she recalled Sawyer talking to Rafe, trying to convince him to come with them. She’d said that they could make them listen. Bree didn’t know what that had meant and at the time she hadn’t given it any thought. Her father had been nearly dead and Rafe had saved him. She couldn’t think beyond those simple facts.

  “Wow,” she said. “I don’t mean to pry, but why isn’t he here?”

  Lydia’s eyes closed briefly before sh
e met Bree’s gaze. “We thought he was dead,” she said quietly. “It’s a long story but until the day you came here and I talked to Sawyer, I thought Rafe was dead. We all did. James has never even met him.” Lydia took a shaky breath and Bree wondered if she was going to cry. She didn’t. She seemed to pull herself together and said, “It was a really hard time for me and I thought I was finally okay, you know? I’d lost my husband, but I had this amazing little boy. I was okay with it all. Finally.” She shook her head. “But now I know he’s alive. He’s spent 8 years away from his home, away from me. Why? Why didn’t he come home?”

  “I’m sorry,” Bree said, lamely. “I don’t know what to say. This is a shock. I mean, I only met him once. He was a bit intimidating, to be honest.” Lydia chuckled and Bree smiled.

  Lydia said, “People were always intimidated by Rafe until they got to know him. He’d never hurt a fly. He hated that people were afraid of him because of his size. He just wanted to help people.” She looked down into her mug thoughtfully. “I’d finally gotten used to a world without him. A world where he didn’t exist. I don’t know what I feel now.”

  Bree leaned forward and said, “I think he still wants to help people. He saved my dad without hesitating. He didn’t know us but he did it, no questions asked. If he weren’t there, my dad would have died that day. I don’t know why he stayed away, but I’ll always be grateful to him.”

  Lydia gave her a small smile. “He was always so proud of his ability. It was a gift, he said. It wasn’t something that could be twisted into a way to hurt someone. It was pure. Is. It is pure. I can’t stop thinking of him in the past tense.” She shook her head and sipped her coffee. When she lowered her mug to the table, she said, “I see a lot of him in James. His willingness to help, his smile, the way he looks when he’s concentrating really hard on something. That’s all his dad.” She smiled for a moment before her eyes took on a faraway look.

  “Eight years ago, I was taken captive during a mission. I was tortured. It was…well, it was bad. I lost my sense of time. It felt like I’d been there for days. It was really just a few hours, I think.” Bree’s breath caught as she imagined the sweet, tiny woman before her being tortured. She felt her respect for Lydia raise a bit. She’d been through so much in her life and somehow still managed to find happiness.

  Lydia went on, “Rafe was never a fighter, no matter what he might look like. He was always so calm, never losing his temper. But that night, he came for me. I’d never seen anything like it.” Her brow lowered as she dredged up the old memories. “It was complete chaos. People were screaming and dying. I was hurt, but I was alive. I watched Rafe fight his way to me and I thought for sure I was hallucinating. Rafe didn’t go on missions. He wasn’t a killer.”

  She shook her head. “That night, he was. He got to me and he healed me. He got me out of the building. Then he went back in. I yelled at him to come back. I begged him but he wouldn’t listen. It was like he was caught up in his anger. He wanted to kill them all. There was a fire and the smoke was so thick. I tried to go in after him, to bring him back. It was crazy. I wasn’t thinking. I just needed to get him out of there and I couldn’t. My dad—Conrad—pulled me back. He stopped me from going back inside. I hated him for months afterward. I was convinced that I could have saved Rafe if he’d have just let me go. It took me a long time to realize that he probably saved my life by stopping me that night.” She pulled her sleeve up to show Bree a scar the size of her palm on the inside of her forearm. “I didn’t even realize my shirt was on fire. I was so caught up in getting to Rafe. He never came out of the building and we never heard from him. We all thought he was dead. All these years.” She cleared her throat and lowered her sleeve.

  Bree had been caught up in Lydia’s story. She could hear the emotion in her words and knew the woman was in pain. Losing her husband had been devastating for her. Coupled with the trauma of her own experience that night, it was a wonder the woman was able to function normally. She wondered why Rafe had let his family believe him dead for all these years. Why hadn’t he contacted them or come back to the compound before? He had been adamant about not returning and he hadn’t wanted anyone here to know about him. He’d told Sawyer not to contact him again.

  “Wait,” Bree said. “Sawyer. She called him from her phone. She has a way to get in touch with him.”

  Lydia nodded. “I know. She gave me the number.”

  Bree raised her brows. “So, call him. Ask him why the hell he stayed away. Tell him to come home.” Her words trailed off as she noticed the look on Lydia’s face. “What is it?” she asked. “Why are you afraid to call him?”

  Lydia took a deep breath and looked up to meet Bree’s gaze. “What if he’s not the same man?” she whispered. “I know I’ve changed and what if I look at him and I don’t know him anymore?” She looked down at the empty mug in her hand and said, “I don’t know if I could handle that.”

  On impulse, Bree reached across the table and touched Lydia’s hand. “I understand,” she said in a low voice. “But wouldn’t it be better to know?”

  Lydia looked thoughtful for a moment before she nodded. “You might be right,” she said. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to find out yet.”

  After lunch with Lydia and James, Bree walked back to her quarters alone, her mind cycling through all she’d learned that morning. She thought back to the day she’d met Rafe. The details weren’t entirely clear in her memory. She’d been so out of it and had mainly focused on her father. She tried to picture the tiny Lydia next to the giant man she’d seen that day and found it to be an odd image. More than a foot of height separated them and while Lydia looked almost delicate, Rafe was massive and looked like he could easily kill someone with his bare hands. But Bree remembered him using his hands to heal her father when no one else would have been able to. She thought about all she knew of Lydia and all she’d learned of Rafe and it didn’t seem such a strange pairing after all. The two of them were much more alike than their outward appearance showed.

  She couldn’t help but glance at Declan’s door as she passed. She wondered how he was spending his free time. She’d noticed that he seemed to be avoiding her more and more since they’d begun training. She couldn’t stop the hurt she felt at the thought. She dreamt of him nearly every night and assumed it was the same for him, but they never talked of anything personal. Since his apology after that first day of training, Declan had made it a point to keep his distance. Bree wondered if he knew how obvious his efforts were. If so, he didn’t seem to mind. She also wondered if everyone else could see it. That thought brought a swell of annoyance that she tried to tamp down. She quickened her pace until she was standing before the door to her own quarters. She quickly let herself inside and her gaze immediately went to the journal that still lay on the couch where she’d left it the night before.

  She slowly closed the door behind her, eyes glued to the book. She hadn’t been thinking about it when she’d entered the room, but now she could think of nothing else. What was it about the life of a long–dead stranger that called to her so strongly? Try as she might, Bree couldn’t figure it out. Deciding that no harm could come from reading the journal of a dead woman, she took a breath and crossed the room. She picked up the book and sat down, making herself comfortable on the couch. It didn’t take her long to find where she’d left off the night before.

  I had lunch with Olivia today. I’ve missed spending time with her. Since my darling niece arrived, my sister has been busier than ever. Still, she seems happy. Motherhood suits her as I knew it would. She’s always longed for a family. When I mentioned how happy she seems, Olivia agreed that she was but then her face turned thoughtful. She questioned my own happiness with Ephraim. I believe I must have hesitated because her eyes grew worried. I hastened to reassure her that of course I am happy. I love my husband and our life together. But Olivia knows me too well and would not let it be. I finally told her how much Ephraim’s constant absence saddens me. That I
long for the days when he can remain home to be with me. I told her of my own longing for a family, a child of my own.

  Olivia gave me a look of pity that made me angry. I told her how important Ephraim’s work is and how much it means to him and to the council. She seemed unconvinced, but did not argue. Instead she said only, “Charlotte, my only wish is for you to be as happy in your marriage as I am in mine.” It was the first time I can remember feeling jealous of my sister and I hated the emotion.

  Bree couldn’t understand her fascination with Charlotte Marsh. She couldn’t seem to put the book down. Each time she’d start a new entry, she told herself it was the last one, but when she came to the end, she’d move on to the next one. She was startled to realize that it was nearly time to meet her parents for dinner. She reluctantly closed the journal and stared at the cover. What was it about this woman that seemed to capture her attention? She shook her head at her own foolishness. She stood and walked to her bedroom. She laid the book on her bedside table and changed her clothes. As she moved around the room, her eyes kept drifting to the book. Eventually, she gave a disgusted sigh and shoved the book into the drawer of the little table, closing it with more force than was necessary.

  She was early, but Bree left her quarters and walked the short distance to her parents’ door. She couldn’t seem to get the journal out of her head even as she chatted with Jon and Rylee. All through dinner, she was distracted by thoughts of Charlotte’s life and the mystery of Ephraim. Her mother even asked her if something was wrong or if something had happened with Declan. Bree assured her that everything was fine. She wasn’t certain her mother believed her, but she wasn’t ready to discuss her relationship with Declan.

  Chapter 19

  Team training in the afternoons had somehow become a form of torture. It seemed to Bree that this time every day only served to demonstrate that they were nowhere near ready to work together as a team. They’d been at this for weeks and still Sawyer and Corbin would barely look at one another and they didn’t speak at all. Gwynn would consistently try to pair them up when it came time to spar. Her tactics were obvious to the entire team. Corbin always found a way to get out of it and pair up with someone else, usually Declan or Jon. He was coldly polite to the rest of the team, but almost openly hostile toward Sawyer.